Certainty
by Interim
Summary: Temari is certain that she will never learn to swim – especially with Shikamaru as a teacher. ShikaTema; Oneshot


**A/N: I don't own Naruto.**

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><p><strong>Certainty<strong>

It began with a mission, as these things tend to.

"This'll do nicely." Temari said, eyeing the swamps and bugs and ambiguous nature with satisfaction. "I think this is more eerie than the 'Forest of Death.' And it adds variety."

Shikamaru sighed next to her. "I really don't care, as long as it's dangerous—we're not allowed to be soft with the Chunin Exams."

Temari eyed him mischievously. "Y'know, every year when we're assigned to be proctors for this damn thing, I pray to every known god out there that I get stuck with you. No one else is as uncaring, unmotivated, or quite as apathetic."

"I'll take it as a compliment."

"I meant it as one."

They ventured further into the musty swamp, inspecting the wildlife with vague curiosity. The plants? Poisonous. The animals? Feral. The water? Murky. This place would do nicely. Temari hastily scribbled notes about it for Lady Tsunade—the sooner she could be done, the sooner she could go home. Shikamaru dug his hands out of his pockets and glared at his watch.

"Let's wrap this up."

Temari followed Shikamaru out, eyes diverted as she stuffed everything in her knapsack—

And suddenly the ground swallowed her.

She couldn't see or breathe and she kicked and punched the water but was helpless—the water knotted its wet fingers into her clothes, dragging her down, down. Which way was up, now? Was she sinking or floating? Her thoughts raced and her heart was screaming and she felt something grab her arm—suddenly there was light and air, and Temari lay coughing and hacking up green water.

Shikamaru, his hand still on her arm, looked at her, concerned. "What happened?"

"What do you _think_?" She hissed between coughs. She closed her eyes, grateful for solid ground at her feet. She felt stable.

"I saw you go under, and actually thought it was funny at first," he said. "But then you never resurfaced. I didn't you that you couldn't swim."

She, still panting, shrugged. "I never had a need for it—I grew up in the desert. I can also _walk on water_, so I didn't bother." She felt embarrassed and stupid. Shikamaru must have thought she was a complete moron. She cringed at herself—what kind of shinobi didn't even know how to _swim_?

"You need to learn," he sighed, helping her to her feet. "Tell you what: I won't mention this incident to anyone if you let me teach you. It's a drag, but I couldn't let you continue out in the world knowing that you can't even _doggy_ _paddle_."

"Fine," she muttered, feeling vulnerable. She hated it. She'd rather be back in that murky pit than feeling so weak.

"Meet me at the hot springs around seven," he said.

"Why the _hell_ am I gonna learn how to swim at a _hot spring_?"

"Because hot springs—unlike most places—are relaxing, and _not_ troublesome. Besides," he added, "they're deep enough to tread in, so I can teach you the basics."

She huffed, skeptical, but kept close to him as they left.

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><p>Temari smiled when she walked into the small resort—it was completely empty.<p>

Then again, it _was_ a Wednesday night. When she stepped into the communal hot spring, Shikamaru was the only one there. He watched her furtively as she dipped a toe in the water, noticing the way she shivered. He let his eyes wander curiously—he'd never seen so much of her before. He noticed the little things about her honeyed skin, from how soft it looked in the haze of the water, to the small scars that painted white pictures across her body. In some distant crevice of his mind, he wondered if it tasted like honey, too.

He stopped. This was unacceptable territory. He averted his eyes, focusing instead on the steaming foam atop the hot spring water—an innocent distraction for a foul string of thought.

"Just get in," he said, still not looking at her. He could hear her grumble angrily as the water stirred and she emerged next to him. The water was now just below her chest (which he especially avoided looking at), and he grabbed her arm, gingerly pulling her deeper into the for her to follow him.

"This way," he said. She began shaking as the water rose slowly to her neck, but she refused to show him how panicked she really was. She refused to ask for help, and she sure as hell refused to grab on to him. He turned and faced her while she stood, tip-toed, struggling to keep her face above the water.

"Alright," he began, eyeing her curiously. "Before your feet even leave the ground, I want you to get the arm motions down." He reached over and grabbed her arms, bending and shaping and manipulating them into the appropriate form and movement.

And he watched her as she flailed and grimaced, desperately trying to mask her panic. "You sure you're not trying to drown me, Nara?" She groaned, but her tough façade was collapsing, and they both knew it. He sighed, and he grabbed her by the waist (ignoring how soft her skin was), forcing her to stop her manic thrashing while still keeping her afloat. She looked up at him with wide, teal eyes.

"The true key to swimming is not to panic. Work _with_ the water, not against it—let it buoy you up. It's your _ally_, Temari," he said, and he spun her around until her back was to his chest. "Now, I'm going to hold you up, and I want you to start kicking—not like you're _attacking_ something, but more like you're trying to jog lightly under water."

He raised her higher, and she began kicking lightly, flushed. "I feel like an idiot," she said.

"And you look like one, too," he added. "But suck it up—you're learning to swim."

"Why don't you use your damn Shadow Mimic Jutsu to make me copy your movements while you swim?" She asked pointedly. "It would make this easier."

"Yes," Shikamaru said, "it would. But it wouldn't be genuine inspiration—it wouldn't stick. You need to learn it on your own. Besides, would you _really_ want me to?"

"No," Temari muttered. She couldn't imagine losing control of her entire body to Shikamaru. She could barely stand his hands.

"Exactly," he said. She swore she could hear him smirking.

She wanted to turn around and start kicking him, instead. But she just focused on her movements, determined to swim so he would stop touching her, already. She didn't like how his hands felt on her skin—how they controlled her. She didn't like how they made her feel exposed. She didn't like the way they were warm and rough at the same time—the hands of an experienced shinobi. She didn't like how she wondered what they might feel like on other parts of her body… no. She would just keep kicking. She would ignore everything else and learn to swim, at last—

He dropped her.

She, in shock and panic, fought the water in a frenzy, lashing and flaying. Though it wasn't deep, she was determined to conquer it and float without having to touch the ground. So she calmed herself with every effort, trying to remember everything Shikamaru had just taught her. Work with the water, work with the water… she eased her kicks, and tried moving her arms languidly atop the froth, brushing it gently. Instantly she was floating and grinning, and Shikamaru smirked at her again.

"Good, you're treading water. Now," he said, moving away from her and toward the stairs that led out of the hot-spring. "Angle your body until it's parallel with the water, and use the same motions to propel you forward. _Swim_ to me."

And, slowly, slowly she swam. Even though the water was deep enough for her to walk in, she kept swimming, simultaneously confident in and awed by her movements. And suddenly she was there, next to him at the foot of the stairs. She stood, the water rippling around her waist again.

She punched his arm.

"I can't believe you _dropped_ me, you punk!," She said, only half-joking. He shrugged.

"It worked," he said. "Just like riding a bike. You've gotta let go at some point."

She huffed, and his eyes slipped downward again, not quite as reluctant, this time. He traced her body, dripping and shaking, with his gaze. He remembered how her skin felt under his hands, and his fingers itched to hold her again. This time, he indulged the fantasy, if only for a moment. Before she could guess his thoughts, he spoke:

"I'm going to relax here for a bit. You can go, if you want."

"Nah, I'll stay. It's quiet and warm here—_and _ I had to fork over twenty bucks to get in."

He didn't know if he felt anxious or auspicious as the line between his fantasy and reality blurred. Temari followed him back into the spring, and they sat. She stretched and relaxed immediately, almost purring. Shikamaru was stiff—this was exactly as he'd played it in his mind—and he closed his eyes, ridding himself of his feelings.

After a long silence, she squirmed next to him. "Uh, thanks. You know, for helping me out. I guess I owe you."

"Don't sweat it," he said without looking at her. "I _wanted_ to help. Even if it was a bit of a drag."

"I can't believe I was even _teachable_," she sighed, and suddenly her mouth was a gushing faucet, and things started spilling out before she had a chance to think about them. "I hate losing control—it makes me feel helpless. Weak. So I'm sorry if I was a bit of an ass. That's why."

"I know," he said. He leaned back, lacing his hands behind his head. "But it's like I said—sometimes you need to _let go_."

He froze at his own words, letting them settle in the water's haze. Temari looked at him, and he was afraid to look back—afraid of letting go. He'd worked hard to push these feelings down, and he refused to let them consume him. She abruptly reached over and grabbed his chin, forcing him to face her. She looked fiercely determined.

"You're right," she said. "I do need to let go, sometimes. So I'm letting go _right now_, whether you like it or not."

And she yanked him down and kissed him hard. Every poorly concealed fantasy erupted in his mind like fire—only this time it was real. He let his hands explore everywhere, gingerly and gently, and she was just as soft as he'd imagined. And her skin…

Her skin tasted like honey, after all.

She was beautiful to him in every way. And hell, maybe he loved her, too. But as troublesome as she was, she was worth it—he'd never been more certain of anything.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcome!<strong>


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